


Nightmares

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: End Game Spoilers, M/M, Nightmares, Prophetic Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 06:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10238471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: [Spoilers for End Game Content] Regis had always had fate resting on his shoulders, and now it seems that his visions of fate have been passed on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was sort of prompted over at my ask box at tumblr. 
> 
> Yes, I'm also at [Tumblr](http://aithilin.tumblr.com/).

“You’re looking well-rested, your majesty.”

When it came to compliments like that from Clarus, Regis had never been sure if he should entirely trust him. The last time his friend had mentioned how well he had slept was after a night he had spent at Noctis’ bedside to scare off the monsters created entirely in the imagination of a child. 

“Terrifying, isn’t it, General?” 

The joke was worth it to see that rare smile from Clarus. It had been too long since they had that short morning walk from breakfast table to study without a debriefing. 

Too long since he could actually feel the effects of a good night’s rest. 

It was troubling. 

He had learnt when Noctis was five that he was destined to be the Chosen King— the True King. He had understood what that meant as soon as it was revealed. He had understood that he was going to be expected, by every memory of his bloodline, to raise a sacrificial lamb who saw his duty to be slaughtered. He would be expected to fulfil every single duty he had to every single prophecy his young son was going to carry on his young shoulders. 

He had refused. He would always refuse. 

The Crystal had reminded him. With the same impartial, perfect aloofness he had learnt was at the heart of Lucian magic— at the heart of the Lucian line that should have ended well before now. 

Noctis was always the same in the dreams. The nightmares. The visions fed to him to warn him of what destiny was. They started when Noctis was five. 

His boy was five, and sitting on the too-big throne at the top of too many steps in a hall that was too dark for his innocence. His child was five. With his big eyes and bright smile. Sitting on a throne too big, too imposing, among the ruins. And he would see that sword— the last sword, _his_ sword— and his child’s smile. There was so much blood in so small a body.

His boy was ten, eleven, thirteen, fifteen. Regis had watched his son die every night for the past thirteen years. 

“Anything that makes you smile can be terrifying, your majesty;” Clarus said as he opened the heavy study door, still smiling at the good mood of the bright morning. 

“Noct makes me smile.”

“Case in point. Your son is a terror on my guard.”

Except for the past three nights. The past three nights, he had a dreamless sleep, or pleasant thoughts in the morning. The weight of his role, his crown, barely weighed anything.

Regis smiled as he settled at his desk, a stack of reports and briefings already waiting. “No worse than I was.”

“Exactly.”

——

For three days Nyx had been shocked awake. For three days he had been on edge— not used to the terrors of dreams like this. Every morning he would lean over Noct, check his lover’s breathing, his pulse. He would look for a wound that had been so vivid in his mind. 

The first day, he couldn’t speak through his shock. He couldn’t do anything but hold Noct to him as the prince tried to calm him down— tried to wheedle answers out of him before he settled in trying to draw smiles out. And all Nyx could see was the slump of lifeless shoulders and the vacant look in blue eyes. 

The second day, he had snapped. It was a distraction now, this unease, this fear eating away at the back of his mind. 

At work his magic was unruly. He was less focused. He didn’t hear Selena’s plea to help their mother when he warped through his training. He saw Noct, slumped over the King’s sword in a throne that was far too big, too gilded for his prince. Too imposing and threatening for his wild little prince. 

Drautos saw the change. Told him to sit out the day mission to the Wall. Told him to take guard duty until he got his act together. 

The third night in a row, Nyx was starting to fray. 

He had nightmares after Galahd— visions of the emotionless MTs trudging their way through his homeland in waves. Visions of the dead and dying, and of his sister dying again, and again, and again. But he knew that Galahd had fallen, that his home was gone, that there was nothing behind in those images his mind kept pulling forward. 

This was different. He had only found Noct. He had only just started this thing between them. He had only just learnt all the ways Noct could smile and light up and be so damned devious. He had only just started to see the prince’s humour and compassion and love, and know his fears of walking in his father’s shadow. 

Nyx had never thought his mind was cruel enough to come up with ways to kill Noct. 

“Hey, hero,” Noct yawned as Nyx turned him over. Caught Nyx’s hand as he checked for the wounds in the dream. Noct smiled as he met Nyx’s worried eyes. “I’m here.”

“Yeah… Yeah,” Nyx squeezed Noct’s hand, kissed him. He pressed their foreheads together and just breathed and listened for Noct’s breath. “You are.”

He had been written up for the last few days— unable to shake the anxiety that he was not prepared to handle. Unable to shake off the need to see Noct, to touch him, to keep him from going anywhere near the Citadel and it’s black and grey walls. His focus had nearly cost them on his mission, he was reassigned until he was checked out. 

He dreaded the guard duty that took him past that throne room. 

“Sir Ulric?” 

“Your majesty?”

Nyx smiled a little, he always smiled for King Regis— he knew the man (barely), knew his kindness and his interest. Knew the way that Noct idolised his father wasn’t without merit. 

“I had heard you were getting into trouble, lately.” Regis paused, thinking back to the regular reports he received from Drautos. “More than usual, I should say.”

Nyx still smiled; “Just a bit.”

“Walk with me. Clarus is off glaring at some new recruits, and you’re better company than my own thoughts.”

“I wouldn’t say that, your majesty.”

“I would.”

“And that’s the opinion that matters, your majesty.”

Regis chuckled, his cane tapping on the stone floors as he moved. Nyx fell into step at his elbow, casting a last look towards the heavy black doors he had seen in his dreams far too often lately. 

“I’ve never known you to be intimidated by doors, Ulric.”

“Your majesty?”

“Or by the throne.”

Nyx paled, realising just how many tells he must have if he wasn’t able to stay professional in front of the damned king.

Regis paused, used his cane to summon the elevator. “The reports say that you’ve been unfocused, Ulric. Your magic is losing it’s tether to mine. Should I worry?”

“No, not at all, your majesty,” Nyx tried to smile his usual wolfish grin. Tried to not think about the images that played through his mind every night. “Just need a good sleep, I suppose.”

There was a pause again as the king looked him over, scrutinised him. Saw through him. He finally pointed to one of the paintings that hung opposite the elevators. “Do you know that prophecy, Ulric? It used to keep me awake at night, thinking about the Scourge that could still be coming, and the True King.”

Nyx hesitated, “I hadn’t given it much thought, your majesty.”

“No? I suppose that’s for the best. Worrying about fate never did anything to change it, after all.”

This was a bad idea, Nyx knew it was a bad idea. He was meant to be staying out of trouble, not making things worse. “I suppose the worry would give you nightmares, your majesty? Especially if your son was the next in that line.”

He could be dismissed, excused from service. Or stationed at the Wall, away from the city. Away from Noct. 

Regis nodded, “The Crystal is what gives you nightmares in these cases. It’s an agent of fate. As it likes to remind anyone connected to it.”

“How would you handle the nightmares, your majesty?”

Regis smiled, resting his weight on his cane as the elevator finally opened for him. “I think of the future I want to give my son, not the one he’s fated for.”

Nyx nodded at that, thinking of the way Noct smiled. The way Noct laughed and dragged him into arcades and out for bad food. The way Noct ate around vegetables until he could sneak them on to someone else’s plate. The way Noct’s eyes lit up when he was happy, and darkened just for him. He would live a lifetime for more of those memories. 

“Ulric,” Regis had a hand on the button holding the door; “the next time I have Noct home for dinner, do join us. I’d like to know just why he’s been ruining your sleep.”


End file.
